


All the Ones You Love, You Mistrust

by thegreatpumpkin



Series: A Heart Can't Be Helped [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, grocery arguments, millenial disenchantment, my id on uncomfortable display, psychic twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6421675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/thegreatpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late January was—in Elladan's considered opinion—the worst part of the year. (Featuring grocery-related overreactions, not being a goddamned adult, trying to be a goddamned adult, and turkey sandwiches.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Ones You Love, You Mistrust

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Heart in a Cage," which is apparently originally by The Strokes, but I can't stop listening to the [Chris Thile version](https://youtu.be/k8diQ7HHnmI).
> 
> This is total self-indulgent bullshit but I am trying to manipulate LiveOak into posting things, so, HAVE A PEEK INSIDE MY INCREDIBLY BORING BRAIN. :D

Late January was—in Elladan's considered opinion—the worst part of the year. Work was a never-ending series of funder reports; the weather was freezing and gray and only broken up by the occasional snow, which had ceased being exciting weeks ago and was now simply another twenty minutes tacked onto his commute. (Not to mention a fear for his life. You'd think it never snowed in the Midwest, the way people drove.)

At the moment, all he wanted to do was go home, get out of his work clothes, and complain to Elrohir.

When he came in, his brother was not immediately visible, but the lights were on and the door had been unlocked so he was undoubtedly home. Elladan dropped his keys and began the somewhat extended process of shedding all his winter wear. "Ro?"

"In the bedroom."

He wrestled his coat into the too-small closet, then headed down the hall, already unknotting his tie. "Hey."

"Hey." Elrohir was perched somewhat precariously on his desk chair, replacing the bulb in the overhead light. Elladan moved automatically to steady him.

"It burnt out already? Didn't we just put that one in?"

"Nah, I'm putting in the energy-efficient ones. Saving the planet, et cetera." Elrohir passed him the old bulb, then put the shade back on and climbed down, using Elladan's shoulder to do so.

Elladan hooked an arm around his waist once he was back on the ground, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. "What's the plan for dinner? You want me to cook something?"

"I was thinking we could order out."

Elladan frowned. "We just ordered out last night. I thought you were going to get groceries today?"

Elrohir shrugged, taking the lightbulb back from him and heading out into the hall to put it away. "I didn't make it to the store."

Elladan tried not to be annoyed and didn't entirely succeed. "What do you mean, you didn't make it?"

Elrohir shrugged again. "I got started cleaning out the closets, and that took most of the day. Then I found the lightbulbs and started switching them out, and here we are."

"It's a five-minute walk. You couldn't take, what, half an hour to go to the store?"

"It's ten degrees outside."

Elladan sighed. "If you wanted me to drive, you could have just said so." He glanced at the clock. "It's not too late, I can still cook something quick if we go right now."

"Let's not. I'll go tomorrow, I promise." Elrohir got the overly-innocent look on his face that meant he was going to push. "Don't you want to just relax?" He pulled Elladan's tie free and undid his collar button, then wrapped his arms around Elladan's shoulders and leaned into him. "You had another reporting meeting today, right? When is all that over?"

Elladan bristled. "I hate when you do that."

"Show interest in your day?" Elrohir made a disgusted noise and stepped back. "Duly noted."

"No, when you try and get me to agree with something you want by making it sound like you're doing it for my benefit." He brushed past Elrohir, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and chucking it in the vague direction of the hamper. So much for complaining to Elrohir, he thought, peeling out of his undershirt with unnecessary force. "The closets didn't _need_ to be organized today. We needed groceries." He pulled on an ancient t-shirt and tried to muster the mental energy to decide whether real pants were still necessary, or if the grocery store was a lost cause for the evening. "There's no food in the apartment. What did you even eat today?"

"We had some leftover pizza from Tuesday."

"See? This is what I mean. We've eaten out most of the week. I want real food." By the time he did the shopping, he wasn't going to want to cook anymore, but at this point it was the principle of the thing. He left his pants on.

"Ugh, _sorry_. If I'd known you wanted something specific, I'd have gone." It wasn't much of an apology to begin with, and the sulky tone in which Elrohir delivered it made it even less so.

"I shouldn't have to make a special request when you already said you would do it! You’ve been putting it off for a week already. Groceries aren’t _optional_ , how did you even survive when you were at school?" Elladan shouldered past him again in the hallway, this time less out of necessity and more out of aggravation. "It's fine. I'll go. Where's the list?"

Elrohir softened a little, grabbing the shopping list from the kitchen counter and stepping into his shoes. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. We can go tonight."

"No. Give it." Elladan held out a hand for the list. "I'm going alone."

"Elladan—"

"Not in the mood."

Elrohir stared him down for a moment, then shoved the list at him and disappeared down the hall into the second bedroom (his, marginally, though they used it more for storage than anything). Elladan slammed around a little bit on his way out, muttering about _being a goddamned adult_ , but it was too cold outside to maintain that kind of effort once Elrohir could no longer appreciate it.

~

By the time he came back, he was feeling more weary than angry. He wasn't exactly over his irritation, but he had begun to consider the very real benefits of letting it go and making up with Elrohir, not least having someone warm to curl up with. When he came in, Elrohir was waiting for him on the couch, looking more than a little contrite—which would make it even better, if Elrohir were the one to apologize.

They didn't talk as they unloaded the groceries and put them away, but it wasn't an angry quiet. Elladan set out sandwich fixings for their supper, making himself a somewhat elaborate turkey tower, and let Elrohir decide when to start. Elrohir took his time. When they were both settled on the couch, paper plates across their laps, he cleared his throat; Elladan turned to look at him, all too ready to grant his forgiveness.

"I think," said Elrohir, and faltered. "I think maybe—this was a mistake."

Elladan blinked at him, trying to make sense of the words. "The groceries?"

Elrohir took a long breath, and there was a strange tightness around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. "Moving in together."

A part of Elladan's brain reflected that no one in the world could make him feel like he'd been punched in the gut as easily as Elrohir, or in as few words. The rest of his thought processes were entirely offline. He opened his mouth, but it was several moments before words came.

"...over this?" His voice rasped. He swallowed and tried again. "It's just _groceries_ —I had a bad day at work, it's not—"

Elrohir reached across and caught Elladan's hand, holding onto it as if he were the one in need of reassurance. "It's not the first time we've fought." _Or the second, or the tenth_ , neither one of them said.

"Just about little things, though."

Elrohir gave him a look. "Yeah, exactly. When have we ever fought this much? Even when we were kids?"

Elladan tried not to panic. "We're just figuring things out. Everybody—"

"Elladan," Elrohir said softly, and Elladan closed his mouth, still looking miserable. Elrohir's grip tightened, his expression just as strained. "Jesus. Don't—don't look at me like that, I'm not breaking up with you. I'm just worried that we rushed into this, and now we're paying for it." He pressed the heel of his free hand against one eye, as if staving off a headache. "If this were a normal relationship—"

"But it isn't. You can't base this on what's _normal—_ "

"Can you just listen to me for a second?" Elrohir's temper flared; Elladan bit his tongue and let him talk. "If this were normal, we wouldn't have decided to move in together _literally_ the same day we decided to be together. I just—maybe I should have waited."

Elladan, determined to derail that train of thought before it got any further, spoke without thinking. "And done what, exactly? Moved back in with Mom and Dad?"

There was a pointed, cold silence, and he realized too late what he'd said. It wasn't untrue—it had become pretty clear in the last few months that the pizza place was never going to give Elrohir enough hours to make a living wage—but he knew damn well what a sore spot Elrohir's ongoing underemployment was.

"Yeah," Elrohir said in a low, sharp tone, before he could apologize. "Maybe. At least there I could contribute by helping Dad take down the Christmas lights or something."

" _Rohir_."

"And if I fucked it up, which—let's face it—I do constantly, at least I'd just feel like a misbehaving teenager again, instead of being _agonizingly_ aware of just how much I'm mooching off of you." Elladan tried, again, to head him off, but Elrohir kept going. "I don't know why I didn't get the groceries. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. It's not like I'm busy, since no one that wants a degree is hiring and McDonald's won't call you back if you have a PhD. _You_ go to work all day so we have someplace to fucking _live_ , and I just stay home and reorganize the closets like an asshole instead of leaving the apartment, because _it's the only thing I have any control over_."

Somewhere partway through the rant, Elladan moved his half-eaten sandwich (and Elrohir's untouched one) to the coffee table and tugged Elrohir into his arms. He let the silence go on for a moment to be sure Elrohir was done, pulling his fingers through Elrohir's hair; after a bit, Elrohir gave in and leaned against him, as if he were too tired not to.

"Okay," Elladan said against his temple. "My turn." Elrohir shifted a little, as if afraid of what he might say; Elladan waited. Eventually Elrohir sighed and slumped against him again.

"Shoot."

"You're my favorite person. You know that, right? At your very worst, you're still my favorite."

Elrohir, still melancholy, gave him a long look. "Is this my worst, then?"

Elladan wasn't about to humor that line of conversation. He nudged Elrohir affectionately. "Not even close. Anyway, shut up. I said it was my turn to talk." Elrohir didn't smile, but he was listening, anyway. "We both have really good reasons to be stressed out right now. And I get so down into my own stuff that I kind of lose sight of that. I think about how much I'd prefer to be home all day right now, and I get jealous that you are. But that’s because I forget that I’m not the one who spent years in school just to find out nobody wants to pay me what I'm worth. Or at all," he added, forestalling Elrohir's objection. "I forget that I was just in the right place at the right time, back when the job market wasn't shit. And more to the point...I forget that when I come home, it's to my favorite person, who has graciously cleaned the place and made sure the bills were paid on time."

"It's not that clean," muttered Elrohir. "And it doesn't really count when most of the bills are paid with your money."

"I know you've seen what my living space usually looks like. This is pristine by comparison. And don't pretend like you don't know how much I hate budgeting." Elladan thought it might be working, if slowly. Elrohir's body language hadn't changed significantly, still tense and unhappy, but he had angled himself just slightly in Elladan's direction. Elladan gave him a coaxing grin. "Plus, hey, it's almost tax time. Guess who's handling all of that? Hint: not me."

Elrohir sank down a little in the couch, but he almost smiled, so Elladan counted it a step in the right direction. "House husband by day, accountant by night. It's a very glamorous life."

"House husband _and_ accountant by day." Elladan nuzzled his neck playfully. "I have other uses for you at night."

Elrohir shouldered him off gently, but smirked down at his hands. "Well, I think I'm earning my keep there, at least."

Elladan laughed, relieved to see the turn of his expression. "I have no complaints."

Elrohir sighed and stretched, retrieving his sandwich and tucking his legs up underneath him before settling against his brother again. It was a clear enough signal that he was done pouring his heart out. Elladan wanted to keep the peace; he bit his tongue for awhile, but he couldn't hold it in forever.

"Do you..." he started, then stopped himself, coming at it from a different direction. "Is it just that? Or are you really not ready for...?"

Elrohir didn't answer right away. "I don't know," he said at last. "It's kind of hard to separate right now. I hate being alone all day but I can't make myself go out. I get so excited for you to come home, but then you're exhausted, and I'm a jerk about it. Or stuff like tonight happens." He was looking away from Elladan, but he leaned into him, hard; Elladan tightened his arms and let him talk. "I wanted this _so_ badly. I mean, I still do. Just—nothing's like I wanted it to be, because I keep sabotaging myself. I know I'm doing it and I _can't stop._ " He drew a deep breath. "I just wonder if maybe I'd appreciate it more if it were less easy."

Elladan had no idea what to say to that. He defaulted to joking again, which was probably vastly inappropriate. "Are you calling me easy?"

Still, Elrohir relaxed a little, as if Elladan being predictably useless at emotional things was comforting in some way. "You _are_ easy. You are _so_ easy. All I have to do is—" He turned around, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the space behind Elladan's earlobe.

"That's not—" Elladan started, but Elrohir's lips had moved down to a sensitive spot beneath his jaw, and his fingers were stroking Elladan's nape. Elladan swallowed. "I'm not—"

"Just wait until I call you _brother_ ," Elrohir said against his pulse point, and laughed when Elladan shoved him back in an unsuccessful attempt to disguise his reaction.

"Eat your damn sandwich."

"See? Easy." Elrohir gave him a smug grin and took a bite.

"Whatever." Elladan studied him, doing a poor job of concealing his worry. Elrohir elbowed him gently.

“Stop looking at me like that, I’m not going to do a trick.”

Elladan didn’t laugh. Elrohir sighed and elbowed him again. “Stop, really. I’m fine. Sorry for the feelings vomit.”

“Don’t be sorry for that,” Elladan said, dismayed. “I want to know. I wish I’d known sooner.” The next part he said carefully, like easing into a tub of ice water. “If you need to, um. Be at Mom and Dad’s instead, then...that’s okay. We can make it work.”

“What?” Elrohir’s eyebrows jumped. “ _Oh_. No, I didn’t mean—I’m just not sure it was the right decision _then_. Moving out now wouldn’t change that. I wouldn’t do that to you. And I—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed, “I don’t sleep well alone anymore.”

Elladan had a sudden memory of the nights he’d gone out with friends and come home late, Elrohir always awake and reading when he stumbled in. It never occurred to him before that he’d been waiting up rather than just...not sleeping yet. He filed that away for another time, when he could give his pleasure at the knowledge—and the belated guilt—a little more attention. For now, he kissed Elrohir’s shoulder and let it go. “Okay. Do you need me to give you more space?”

“No.” That, at least, Elrohir sounded definite about. Elladan tried not to be _too_ obviously relieved. “Maybe, just...be patient with me? Sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“—okay. Do you…” Elrohir trailed off thoughtfully, drumming fingers against his knee. “Do you think you could come home for lunch sometimes?”

“Of course. Are you going to cook?” Elladan teased.

“Gourmet. I will spend all morning slaving over Campbell’s soup and grilled cheese. I might even open up some Jello cups for dessert.” Despite the words, Elrohir was still serious, his gaze concentrated on his plate. “I think it might be easier if I had...something to break up the day, and it would be nice to see you when you’re not ready to pass out.”

“Sure. What else?”

Elrohir shrugged, his eyes still on the plate. “Don’t make a big deal out of it? I swear, I’m fine.”

Elladan was fairly sure their definitions of the word were not, at the moment, anything like compatible. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

“But I am.”

Elladan let it drop, because he didn't know what else to do, but it didn't exactly feel resolved. He'd have to talk to their dad—carefully, of course, without giving too much away, but it wouldn't be a lie to say that Elrohir was having a rough time and he didn't know how to help. Elladan had inherited Celebrían's need to _fix_ the problem, and the associated frustration when it wasn't something he could fix. She might have some ideas, but he knew if he asked her she’d be unable to resist getting involved, and Elrohir would not be pleased to know that he’d talked to their parents. Elrond was more helpful when you wanted support rather than action—and also when you wanted a little discretion.

In the meantime, he thought of the way Elrohir got after a stressful shift at Vino’s—quiet, but cuddly, tucking himself into Elladan’s arms and his head beneath Elladan’s chin, or wrapping arms around him from behind, or simply sitting close enough that their sides pressed together from shoulder to knee. When Elladan was tired and stressed—like he had been lately—he wanted to go out with friends and relax, and of course they couldn’t touch like that in public. Elrohir had been very obliging, but it was just now occurring to Elladan that there had been far too many nights lately when the only time they touched more than casually was when, coming home late, they curled up to sleep.

He didn't feel good about that. But he _could_ fix it.

He wrapped an arm around Elrohir's shoulders again, resting their heads together. Elrohir took the last bite of his sandwich and half-smiled, leaning into him; they sat like that, quiet, for a time.

“I think you owe me,” Elladan said eventually. Elrohir gave him a warning look that said he wasn't in the mood to be criticized, but Elladan smiled, undiscouraged, and kissed the space between his eyebrows where his frown creased. “For the groceries. And for calling me easy.”

Elrohir caught on, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “You _mean_ , for proving that you’re easy. Still riled up, are we?”

Elladan pulled him in tighter, so that they were all entwined. “Hmm, I don't know. Call me _brother_ again.”

Elrohir smirked and threw a knee across him, straddling his thighs. “Degenerate.”

Elladan just smiled, pushing his shirt up to press kisses to his stomach, sliding his hands flat-palmed up Elrohir's back. Elrohir started to shift, bending down to kiss him, but Elladan wrapped an arm around his hips and drew him back. “Nope, hold still. I want to touch you."

Elrohir huffed a soft laugh. _You’re so weird_. Switching to silent communication tended to be a shift towards intimacy for them when they were alone, making it less a criticism than an endearment. He stayed put, sighing softly and closing his eyes when Elladan put the other arm around him and pressed his cheek to Elrohir’s stomach. After a moment— _Could you maybe touch me a little more...intentionally?_ He smiled down at Elladan, then, sounding almost apologetic—as if the dry spell hadn’t been entirely Elladan's fault— _It's just that it's kind of been awhile._

Elladan was helpless against a request like that.

He took Elrohir to bed, but mostly only because it was easier to stretch out on than the couch, more convenient for pressing every possible inch of skin together; and for wrapping Elrohir up in arms and legs and whispered adoration as they lay together afterwards.

If he lay awake later, worrying it wasn't nearly enough, well—he was only paying back the hours of sleep Elrohir had lost on him.


End file.
